


Warming The Furs

by Nevermore_red



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And Deserves a Little Appreciation, Brienne is the Best, F/M, I Couldn't Even, Just a smutty lemon, Mutual Masturbation, Show!Tormund, Show!Verse, Those Looks, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just...I just can't leave this shipping alone. I so want Brienne with Jaime, I really, really do. Especially in book canon, but I feel the showrunners are just...I don't know, making me really dislike that man again. </p>
<p>But, anyway, I love Brienne and she deserves to have the attention of any man smart enough to give it to her. And who can't love Tormund?? He's awesome and hilarious and wonderfully ginger and hairy.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Warming The Furs

**Author's Note:**

> I just...I just can't leave this shipping alone. I so want Brienne with Jaime, I really, really do. Especially in book canon, but I feel the showrunners are just...I don't know, making me really dislike that man again. 
> 
> But, anyway, I love Brienne and she deserves to have the attention of any man smart enough to give it to her. And who can't love Tormund?? He's awesome and hilarious and wonderfully ginger and hairy.

Brienne pushed her horse on, bowing her head against the bitter cold winds that cut through her furs and armor and mail. She kept her head up enough to still be able to see the horse and rider in front of her, not wanting to lose the self appointed leader of their small scouting party. He was easy enough to keep track of, a flame of red hair and beard against the grey and white backdrop of this desolate area between Winterfell and Castle Black. He rode to her left and a little in front, occasionally looking back at her. Brienne met his gaze each time, curious that he never once looked further back to make sure the rest of the small group was staying with them.

But, then, he'd been doing much the same since she very first arrived at Castle Black. That intense, slightly wild gaze seemed to follow her wherever she went. It unnerved her, the way he watched her. It was unlike any man had ever looked at her. At first it had confused her, then it had angered her. Obviously he was unused to Southron customes and was likely just as unused to seeing a woman in knights garb as her male counterparts often were. Brienne hated the feeling of being an oddity, of being an object of amusement and often derision. No man, save Renly Baratheon and now Lord Snow, had ever treated her as just a woman or an equal. It shouldn't have surprised her that this wildling man didnt feel any differently than all the others.

But over the few weeks that she had been at Castle Black while Lord Snow and Ser Davos made battle preparations, the wildling man, Tormund was his name, had often sought her out, whether it be in the training yard or in the mess hall, or even walking the ramparts. He was crass and uncouth and the amount of jokes he told about other men's, _ahem_ , parts led her to wonder what sort of bed partner he actually preferred. Shamefully enough, Brienne found herself often fighting a grin or a laugh when in his presence. Whenever she let one slip, Tormund would look as if he'd been handed a cache full of gold dragons.

He'd taken to training with her most mornings, wanting to learn the Southron way of fighting so he would be ready when they faced the Boltons. He was good, terrifyingly so. He fought with a sort of barely bridled fury and wildness that it was often hard to keep up with him. She had little to say to him to help him improve, other than being more cautious of his stepping. In return, he praised her fighting style. And not just her fighting style. He often complimented how she looked, which she had taken as him mocking her until she came upon him and a member of the Nights Watch one evening. Tormund had him by the sides of his black cloak, slammed up against the rough stone of the castle wall.

"Listen here, crow." he had been seething when Brienne came upon them. "I hear you talk of her like that again, I'll pull your bloody cock out of your pretty boy throat and fuck you in the arse with it."

"What do you care?" the Nights Watch brother, clearly clutching to his bravado, had shakily asked while squirming in the bigger mans grip.

"Lady Brienne is twice the fighter you ever thought of being. You and your ignorant fucks of Southron brothers might miss the woman she is, but I ain't as blind as the lot of you." he'd tightened his grip around the throat of the other mans cloak until he gasped for breath. "You degrade and mock her again, and I might just let her fuck ya in the arse with that pitiful excuse of a cock I'll cut off you."

The crow, or Nights Watchman, had readily agreed and apologized before Tormund let him go. Brienne had hurriedly left before she was seen by either man, but all the way back to her quarters she couldn't help but smile, a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She wished she had a warm feeling right now, because it was bloody cold out here. And it was a pointless outing anyway. The Boltons would wait at Winterfell for them. There were no scouts to be found out here in the freezing cold save for themselves.

"It's getting dark." Tormund slowed his horse so he rode next to Brienne. The snow that was falling, being whipped by the wind so it felt like little blades when it hit the skin, were collecting in his beard and hair, giving it a white dusting. "We wont make Castle Black before nightfall, or before this bloody snow storm really hits."

"You want to make camp?" Brienne asked, not sure if she was relieved at that or disappointed that she wouldn't make it back to the relative warmth of her quarters at the castle. Tormund laughed, his loud, booming laugh that often had the corner of Brienne's mouth curving upwards.

"Fuck no, I don't want to. I want to be back at the castle where my featherbed is waiting with plenty of furs to keep my arse warmed. Your bloody Southron luxuries have made me a soft man." Brienne scoffed at that with a roll of her eyes. There was not a single inch of the man next to her that could be considered soft. Except maybe the furs that he wore.

"But I'm also fond of me balls," he went on. "and I don't fancy them freezing off before I get the opportunity to show you just how magnificent they really are." he chuckled, tossing her a wink. Brienne was thankful her face was already red from the biting wind because it always flushed whenever he made comments like that. Which was quite often. It surprised her just how little she minded those comments, and just how intrigued she had become by them.

They made camp in a clearing in a grove, hoping the trees would provide a windbreak as well as concealment. Not that they were in much danger of being found by anyone. The amount of snowfall that was now coming down prevented that.

"Double up." Tormund was telling the others as they set up tents. "No time to set up all the tents. And you'll need the warmth tonight." Brienne ignored that statement, knowing that none of the men would likely want to share her bedroll, not that she would allow any of them. Instead, she pulled her tent roll from her horses saddle when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be stupid, woman." Tormund rumbled. "My tent is already up."

"I'm highly capable of setting up one of my own, thank you." she said curtly, her fingers feeling thick and clumsy in the cold as she tried to untie the rope that held the canvas in its roll.

"Aye." Tormund nodded, watching her hands with a raised brow. "A more capable woman I never met, but there ain't a person alive that is going to survive this cold without a body to help warm them or a fire. And we ain't got no fires."

"And you are suggesting?" she looked at him, not up or down, just eye level. He was one of the few men she'd met in her lifetime that she could do that with.

"Sleep with me tonight." a slow grin curled his mouth, lifting his beard in the process. "I'll keep ya warm. And you can keep me warm."

Brienne knew he was right. And she didn't trust any of the other men they were with enough to want to share a tent with. Oddly enough, she trusted this wildling of a man.

The tent was squat and small, made solely for sleep and protection from the elements. Both Brienne and Tormund had to go to their knees once inside to keep from hitting their head on the top of the canvas. His bedroll and furs, paired with hers, took up all the available space. With such close confines, Brienne had to allow Tormund to help her remove her armor and mail, which she stacked along the tents edge near their feet. Next, she helped him out of his outer layers of furs, which were wet with the snow that had collected on them. Both of them left their boots on. There was a bit of an awkward scrambling as they both tried to find a comfortable position and cover themselves in the limited space.

"Ya alright over there?" Tormund asked as Brienne kept shifting around, her back to him.

"Fine, thank you." she gave up and simply relaxed in the position she was in, facing the canvas wall with Tormund on his back behind her.

"You ain't scared of me, are ya?" he asked after another brief moment of silence.

Brienne opened her eyes in surprise. She had seldom heard him sound so serious outside of his strategy talks with Lord Snow.

"No." she said honestly. "I don't think you are stupid enough to try anything." she smiled as she closed her eyes again. "I do have a dagger on me that would do very well in cutting off the parts you seem so very proud of."

Behind her, Tormund laughed loudly, his body causing the furs over the top of her to shake with the force of it. Secure in the knowledge that he couldn't see her, Brienne smiled as well. She found she liked his laughter. It was real when so many of the men she had met in her life were fake, all cold courtesy and mockery. There was nothing cold or mocking about Tormund. He was raw and real and earthy. It was a breath of fresh air after so many years around lords and knights. She enjoyed it so much that she didn't even mind when he shifted closer to her so that his side was pressed against the length of her back.

-

Tormund had always been a light sleeper. It's how he had survived for as long as he had. Most Free Folk were. He had gone to sleep rather easily with Brienne at his side, no matter how he had wanted to keep removing her clothes and supping on her long, powerful body instead of dozing.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been sleeping before something had roused him, but it was nearly pitch black in the tent so it was likely the middle of the night. He lay silent for a moment, body tight and coiled, his hand on the pommel of the sword that lay at his side, listening for what had woken him. That's when he felt it again. Next to him, where Brienne's back was pressed along the length of his side, she was shivering harshly. So harshly, in fact, that it had woken him up. Letting go of the sword, he sat up and felt around on her side, finding that the furs had fallen down around her hips.

"Brienne." he whispered her name, giving her a gentle shake. Brienne was instantly awake, bolting upright so quickly she nearly bashed his head with hers. In the near blackness, he barely caught sight of the glint of the blade in her hand.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice quivering with her chattering jaw.

"Easy, woman." he chuckled, grasping her wrist that held the blade and lowering it. "No danger."

"Then why have you woken me?" she snapped. Tormund grinned. Obviously his warrior woman was the type that took a while to warm up once she woke.

"Your shivering so hard ya damn near gave me seizure."

"Oh." she whispered, but she had yet to pull her wrist free of his hold so he lay down and tugged her with him. She went a little reluctantly, more like she was unsure than she was unwilling. Tormund smiled into the darkness as she lay down next to him, this time facing him. It took very little coaxing on his part for her to curl herself into his side. She was just that cold, apparently. Once she was settled, he pulled the furs up to her chin and tucked them tightly around them. Brienne shifted around a bit more, trying to get as close to him as possible without actually having to wrap her arm around him. Tormund didn't mind much, not when her freezing cold nose buried itself into his throat.

"How are you so warm?" Brienne asked, her breath warming his neck and causing him to shiver for reasons other than the cold.

"I've lived in this me whole life." he shrugged. "You get used to it."

"I'll never get used to this cold." she grumbled, her nose brushing along the shell of his ear. Tormund had to bit back a groan as warmth flooded his veins. At least the furs were thick and it was so dark, maybe Brienne wouldn't notice how his cock was trying to create it's own tent.

"Fine by me." he mumbled. "Means I can warm your bed anytime you need."

 Brienne snorted, but didn't say anything and it wasn't too much longer before her breathing evened out and her body went lax against him. Tormund shifted a little and pulled her closer before giving in to the urge to fall back asleep himself.

The next time he woke it was to find the tent dimly lit by the thick grey light of the early morning filtering through the canvas. Outside the tent the wind was still howling loudly, but he was comfortably warm inside the furs with Brienne now wrapped around him like he was a lifeline in the middle of a tempest. She was still pressed into his side, but now one strong arm was wrapped around his chest and one of his thighs was trapped between her two long, muscled legs. For a brief, sleep fogged moment, he thought she was still shivering like she had been last night. But her movements were less trembly and more deliberate and he went so hard so fast that he nearly passed out when he realized what was happening.

With his thigh wrapped tightly between her legs and pressed firmly to the core of her, she was rocking her hips against him desperately, her breaths coming across his ear in soft little whimpers. It didn't take him long to realize she was still asleep, but that didn't stop her actions from being any less arousing.

"Brienne." he rasped her name, the arm he had slung over her gripping her tighter. "Brienne, wake up." When he said her name, her hips started moving faster and applying more pressure against him and he swore he heard her whisper ' _yes_ ' against his ear.

"Brienne." this time he said her name more as a plea than trying to wake her. Besides, he didn't want her to stop. It was immensely arousing to have such a powerful, self reliant woman using him for her own pleasure. He found himself locking his thigh muscle to give her better purchase, but he wanted her to wake up. He wanted to see those amazingly blue eyes of hers as she found her peak. He wanted it to be him that she was thinking of when she came. Lifting his arm from her shoulders, he wrapped his fingers in her thick blonde hair, giving it a sharp tug so he could turn his head and look at her face. Her eyes flew open with a gasp, but it was fogged, dazed look that he found in them. Half lidded and soft.

"Tormund." she gasped his name, her hips still fervently working against him. She was close, he could tell from her flushed face and moaning breaths. He found himself both wanting her to scream his name so every fucker with them knew he was man enough to please a woman like Brienne and wanting to cover her lips with his so he was the only one that could ever know what Brienne of Tarth sounded like in the throes of passion.

He didn't want her doing all the work herself, so he tugged her hair a little harder, tilting her head further back so he could devour the long column of her throat while his free hand rose to cover her slight breast, kneading the small mound before he found her hardened nipple and rolled it between this thumb and forefinger, the rough spun wool of her tunic rasping along her skin.

She came the second he applied pressure to her nipple, mouth opened wide as the most feminine sound he'd ever heard her make spilled from her mouth. It wasn't a scream, and it wasn't his name, but it was damn near as good as either of those combined. He continued kissing her throat and rolling her nipple as she came down, her panting breaths turning into a calmer sort of rhythm and her tight hold on him loosened.

"Fuck me, woman." he rasped, lifting his head to meet her wide eyed gaze. "If you ain't the most stunning damn thing I ever seen."

"Gods." she gasped, rolling to her back quickly and covering her face with both of her hands. "Oh, Gods. I am so sorry. That was...that was..."

"Sexy." he offered, rolling up onto his elbow to look down at her. "Arousing. Cock achingly magnificent to witness."

"Don't mock me, Ser." she jerked her hands from her face and glared at him.

"I'm not one of your blind fucking Sers, Brienne." he reminded her. "And I ain't mocking ya." he grinned wickedly at her and gently grasped one of her wrists in his hand again.

"Want me to prove it to ya?" Brienne didn't answer him, just watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as he slowly and deliberately brought her hand under the furs and pressed her palm to the blatant and near painful erection pushing against the confines of his breeches.

"That, mi'lady, is what you do to me." he rasped, unable to stop the rocking of his hips into her touch. Brienne's wide, full mouth dropped open with a hitched breath. Just when he was about to pull her hand away from him, her fingers tightened to grip his cock herself. A near embarrassing gust of breath leaving his lungs in a loud whoosh.

"Don't tease me, Brienne." he warned her in a harsh voice. "I'm all out of honour at this point."

"I don't mean to tease." Brienne whispered, pulling her hand a way. Tormund winced at the loss of her touch, his eyes squeezing shut. "But I don't know what to do."

His eyes flew back open to find her head turned towards him, eyes still bright from her pleasure, cheeks stained red and bleeding down onto her neck and chest. Or maybe she was red there from the scrape of his beard. Unconsciously, she licked her lower lip before pulling it between her teeth and worrying it. Tormund groan aloud at the pulse of arousal that shot to his already throbbing cock. Unable to stop himself, and unwilling to try, he shoved a hand beneath the furs and into his own breeches, giving his length a firm squeeze to ease the ache. Brienne's eyes, those stunning eyes so full of innocence and life, looked down at his movement, a gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes went wide before flying back to his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked in an airy voice. Tormund grinned, but didn't stop looking at her while he began to stroke himself. The darkening of her flush and the way she had to fight against looking down at the movement under the furs amused him greatly.

"What you don't know how to." he answered, laying back down on his side and using his free arm to shove the furs down past his hips. "Watch, sweet Brienne, and then you'll know what to do next time."

Not releasing his cock, he shoved his breeches down enough that he was freed from their confines, gasping at the cold air that brushed his sensitive skin. Watching Brienne's face as she gave in and glanced down at what he was doing, he shoved his tunic up his torso so that when he came it was on his skin instead of his clothing. The way Brienne's pretty mouth dropped open wide at the sight was enough to boost his already inflated ego. Almost like she didn't know what she was doing, she rolled onto her side to better see him, closing the distance between them until there was but two hands breadths between them. Enough for him to move as he needed and her to watch.

There was no teasing in his actions, he was far too gone for any of that, and they would have little time anyway before the others roused and it was time to leave. Gripping himself firmly, he stroked hard and fast, focusing more on his head than anything else. He fought the urge to close his eyes, leaving them wide open to watch Brienne and her reaction. She was flushed and panting hard, her breathing gusting over his beard and throat, her eyes intently focused on what he was doing.

"Brienne." he rasped, feeling his balls seize up and the tension at the base of his spine coiling to the point where it would snap any second. "Brienne, look at me."

With a hitching breath, her eyes slowly rose to meet his. He smiled a little at the liquid warmth he found in them, the awestruck expression that they held.

"Touch me." he demanded, but it lost most of its harshness by the pleading tone in his voice. "Anywhere, just put your hands on me."

Before he could consider full out begging her, a trembling hand alighted on his hip, a calloused thumb running circles on the ultra sensitive skin in the dip there, sending trindles of heated sensation throughout his body. And all the while, those blue eyes held firmly to his. Unable to stop himself, his eyes rolled closed as his release washed over him, the warmth of his seed hitting his stomach and matting the hair there. He continued to rub just under the flare of his head as he rode the aftershocks of the best self delivered climax of his entire life.

Brienne's hand gripped tighter to his hip and then he felt the pressure of her forehead against his and he forced his heavy eyes open.

"That..."she stopped talking and shook her head, those blues of hers closing.

"Was the best fucking wank I ever had." he laughed, releasing his hold on himself and wiping his hand on the bedroll under him before cupping the back of her neck. Her eyes reopened and he winked at her once before angling his head to the side and pressing his mouth to hers. It took her a moment to respond, but eventually her lips began moving along with his. And they willingly opened when he tapped the seam of her lips with his tongue. She tasted sweet like the wine they had drank while riding last night, a bit musky from sleep, but better than any feast he'd ever supped at. He ate at her mouth, devoured the taste and feel of Brienne until he forgot where they were, what they were doing, and why they couldn't just get to fucking like every ounce of him wanted to, including the newly reinterested member that was slowly rising to its former glory between them.

"Giantsbane!" Someone shouted from outside the tent, causing Brienne to fling herself away from him like they'd been caught doing something unforgivable. "Lady Brienne!"

Tormund laughed at the scandalized look on her face as he rose to his knees, grabbing a fur and wiping his belly clean. Brienne blushed brightly as she looked at his half hardened cock, then covered her face with both hands.

"Calm yourself, woman." He chuckled. "No one seen nothing. And it's a little late to protect your delicate eyesight now."

"Oh Gods." she grumbled, but did let her hands fall. He'd already adjusted himself back into his breeches and was beginning to pull his furs back on when she looked at him once more.

"You need help with that iron you wear?" he motioned towards the pile of armor at the foot of the bed rolls.

"No." she regathered her courage and sat up as well, tucking her tunic into her breeches. "Take the furs and I'll bring out the bedrolls." Tormund grinned again. He liked that she could go back to being coherent and responsible after a tryst like they'd just had.

"Aye, milady." he rolled up the furs and made for the tent opening before she stopped him.

"Tormund?"

"Aye?" he turned to look at her, crouched as he was by the tent flap.

"I'd like to...to test my newfound knowledge before I leave for Riverrun." she said proudly, lifting her chin a show of bravado. Tormund groaned at the same time he laughed, the half hard cock in his breeches filling out the rest of the way.

"Aye, Brienne. And I might just be able to teach ya few more things before you leave."

With shy glanced downward, Brienne's mouth kicked up a little in the corner. "At Castle Black, then." she nodded.

"At Castle Black." he agreed.


End file.
